After the Movie
by Shauna Lee
Summary: Based directly after the movie, as if the series had never happened. Where do Sara and Ian go from that last phonecall after Gallo died?
1. Default Chapter

Standard disclaimer applies, I don't own them, never could have invented them, just taking them out to play with.

My apologies for not posting either stories or reviews in so long.  RL kicked me in the butt when my grama fell and broke her hip, and my life as her Caregiver got really crazy.  Things have been busy and stressed, and I haven't had time to sit down and write in a while, or read anyone else's stuff for that matter.  And when I had managed to steal the time I would constantly be interrupted, which you know scares away one's muse.  So, well, I am taking a break from doing taxes to post this little bit, and promise to do my best to tie my muse to a chair long enough to update again this weekend with part two.

Anyone wondering about Gathering Storm, I am trying to figure out what to do with it but I haven't completely abandoned it.  I lost focus in the end there and desperately need to redo the last several chapters.

So, A Perfectly Normal Day picks up directly after the original movie ends.  I liked the way Ian and Sara were interacting in that last scene when he called her, and this kind of grew out of that.  I have some wicked wicked things to do to poor Ian that I hope are entertaining in upcoming chapters.

Please let me know what you think of it so far.


	2. A Perfectly Normal Day

It started out as a perfectly normal day for Ian Nottingham.  Upon waking, he went down to the mansion's gym and did a vigorous workout, pushing his body to it's limits until his tank top was soaked with sweat and his skin gleamed with moisture.  A quick hot shower, breakfast, and he was out the door and on the way to his usual post watching over Sara Pezzini.  It was a task he didn't mind so much anymore, since the death of Tommy Gallo.  After that little incident Sara had started to tolerate his presence, even seemed to look for it from time to time.  He suspected she knew he was there even when he remained hidden.  Perhaps the Witchblade allowed her to feel his presence the same way he could always sense hers.

She hadn't had possession of the Witchblade for very long, or was it more accurate to say it had possession of her?  But she showed remarkable stubbornness where it was concerned, and he was impressed and intrigued with her control, especially when she had managed to hold back the Blade-induced bloodlust when the Witchblade urged her to skewer Gallo in the subway tunnel.  She would be a remarkable example of the Bloodline, he was sure.  It was his job, his destiny, to make sure she survived long enough to learn how to wield the Witchblade.  He had been training for this task all his life, it was all his purpose, all his reason for being.  He felt honored to have been paired with such a powerful Wielder, and pleased that Sara exceeded all his expectations.

He settled on her fire escape, hidden in the early morning shadows, and watched her pour her second cup of coffee of the day.  She sipped at the scalding black liquid absently while scanning through a folder.  Ian assumed it was information on a current case.  He ducked back out of sight with a slight smile when she glanced towards her fire escape.  By the time he dared look again she was stuffing the file folder inside her jacket and grabbing her helmet.  He turned and descended the rickety iron ladder to the ground, knowing she was heading for her bike and another hair-raising race to the office.  He would follow more sedately, and safely, in his car.

Taking up his post outside the precinct, he caught a glimpse of Sara as she passed in front of the window to get more coffee.  He grinned.  That woman consumed amazing amounts of the bitter liquid  every day.  He wondered that she could shoot straight, for that much caffeine should surely make her hands shake.  Knowing she wasn't in the middle of anything pressing, he decided to call her, as he had every morning since Gallo's death.  It had become something of a ritual.

"Homicide, Pezzini," she answered her phone.

"Hey Sara," Ian said.

"Hey Nottingham," she replied, a smile tugging at her lips.

"Had any dreams lately?"  Ian grinned as he said it, and he heard Sara chuckle before she hung up on him.  He didn't mind that she hung up on him every day, it was part of the pattern set that first morning.  He didn't call to chat with her anyway, it was just his way of letting her know he was there watching over her.  Sometimes he wondered what she would think if he didn't call one day.

Ian had a boring morning watching Sara and her new partner, Jake McCarty, doing paperwork.  Even in a city like New York detectives always had time to do paperwork.  Though Ian knew that the Witchblade would start pulling Sara into cases it felt needed her attention and she would soon be very busy, he was glad she was having a respite, some time to let all that had happened to her sink in so she could cope with the upcoming changes in her life.  Things would likely get very strange for the young Detective before too long as the forces arrayed against her and the Witchblade began seeking her out.

Sara and Jake took a break for lunch and went out to one of the many cafes in the area.  Ian followed at a discreet distance, unseen by either detective even though he was close enough to hear them speaking.  As usual Jake was trying to get Sara to go out with him, and Sara told him yet again she wouldn't date her partner.  It would make things too complicated.  Ian silently agreed with Sara, hoping she would stick to her decision not to date the blond for more than one reason.  The more Ian watched Sara the more he was drawn to her, and the more he watched Sara with Jake the more he wished the blond Detective would fall off a cliff.  Ian had never been jealous over a woman before, and he wondered if that was what he was feeling.  His sheltered upbringing made him into the perfect assassin and bodyguard for his employer, Kenneth Irons, and the ultimate protector of the Wielder, but there were some areas of his education he felt had been left out.  Interpersonal relationships and social customs were two of them.

After the partners had eaten and returned to the precinct to continue trying to put a dent in the ever-present mound of paperwork, Captain Siri called Sara into his office.  Ian watched Sara enter the Captain's office, wishing he were close enough to hear what they were discussing, but contented himself with the somewhat better view he now had of Sara, watching the emotions playing across her face as she listened to Joe.  From what Ian saw, this was going to be an unpleasant conversation for Sara, and he wistfully wished he could rescue her from it.

Sara walked into Joe's office and closed the door behind her at her Captain's gesture.  Leaning up against the door jam, ankles and arms crossed, she waited to find out what Joe wanted, though she had a suspicion.  She had hoped Joe would hold off a little while before asking her to keep her promise to explain from a few weeks ago.

"Sara, you need to tell me what has been going on," Joe stated bluntly.  "Internal Affairs wants some answers.  If I don't have something to tell them they'll investigate you, and you know how unpleasant they can be."

"God, Joe," she sighed, running her hand over her forehead and up into her hair in frustration.  "I don't even know where to start.  I know you're not going to believe half of it."

"Just tell me the truth," Joe said.  "Start from the beginning."

"Promise me you'll hear me out," she insisted, unconsciously rubbing the bracelet on her wrist..  "I don't know if I can get through this if you keep interrupting me to tell me you don't believe me."

"If that's the only way you'll tell me, then okay," Joe agreed.  Sara grabbed a chair and pulled it up close on the other side of Joe's desk, preparing to share confidences.  She could feel the Witchblade urging her to keep its secret, but she fought it and won.

"It started that day at the museum," she began.  "You know how everyone was wondering how I managed to come out of that explosion without so much as a singed hair.  Well, this is why," she said, holding up her wrist and showing him the bracelet.  He raised an eyebrow but held his peace, keeping his promise as she laid out the whole thing.

"And that's why I couldn't tell you what was going on before," Sara finished.  "I didn't have enough control over the damn thing to make it let me."

"And you have that control now," he asked skeptically.

"Most of the time," she said.  She glanced around, making sure the blinds in his office windows were closed so noone else in the precinct could see.  Concentrating, she forced the Witchblade to morph into battle gauntlet form, extend the sword, then return to bracelet form.  Joe nearly fell backward out of his seat, only being saved from a fall by having wall behind him.  He was so startled he missed Sara's sharp glance at the Witchblade as it settled into a different bracelet form than before.  The simple twisted silver wire was replaced with a much more ornate celtic design now.

"I…ah, this is going to take me some time to process," Joe said.

"You believe me," Sara asked.  He nodded.

"I have to admit until I saw that thing change form I was doubting you.  But there's no way you could have faked that in front of my eyes, and if that's real, well, I've never known you to lie to me before.  And it sure does answer some questions.  But I don't know what I'm gonna tell IA."

"Neither do I," she said.  They sat in contemplative silence for several minutes.

"Does Jake know about this," Joe asked after a moment.

"I haven't told anyone but you," she said, shaking her head.  "But you have no idea how good it was to be able to tell you the truth."

"I'm glad you still feel you can trust me with something like this," Joe said.

"Oh, Joe," Sara replied, tearing up a little.  "After dad died you were the closest thing to a father I had.  I'll always trust you."  She leaned across his desk and gave him a quick hug.

"So," Joe said when she stood back up, a thought occurring to him.  "What about this Nottingham character?  He still stalking you?"

"More or less," she said.  "He kinda watches my back.  He doesn't interfere with my work, just makes sure I don't get in over my head with the, um, other stuff.  And drops cryptic hints that pass for advice from time to time."

"Well, if he ever becomes a problem, you let me know," Joe said.

"Thanks, Joe," she said, smiling warmly at him, then opened the office door and let herself out.  Before heading back to the pile of paperwork and her infatuated partner, Sara decided a trip to the ladies room was in order, mostly due to the amount of coffee she consumed every day, but also to take a few moments to compose herself.  She felt a little shaky after her battle of wills with the Witchblade over telling Joe everything.  The entire time it had tried to stop the words in her throat, and she had fought tooth and nail to get them out evenly.  But it was such a relief to have been able to tell Joe everything, and knowing she could continue to tell him the truth in the future was a relief.  Knowing there was someone she trusted whom she could confide in made her feel a lot better about things than she had in weeks.

As she pushed open the restroom door she stopped in her tracks, strangling a shriek.  Danny was leaning casually against the wall near the paper towel dispenser.  She shot him a venomous look out of habit, then grinned at him.

"Hey, Partner," she said as she headed into a stall and closed the door.  "No peeking!"

"I wouldn't dream of it," he assured her, then changed the subject.  "So, you told Siri."

"I didn't tell him you were haunting me," she replied.  "I wasn't sure he would believe that.  I'm still not sure I believe it."

"I'm impressed you could tell him anything at all," Danny said.

"It was really hard," she admitted.  "But I wasn't going to lie to him, and he deserved an explanation."

"True.  He's a good man.  This is for the best in the long run," Danny said.  "You need someone to talk to besides a rich megalomaniac, a psycho assassin, and a dead guy."

"It will be nice to have someone normal to talk to," she admitted as she washed her hands.

"When things get really weird it will be good to be able to explain to Siri what's really going on.  Having the Captain know the real situation will help when you need to cover your ass."

"Like now with IA?"

"Internal Affairs could be a big problem," Danny said.  "But Siri can hold them off for now."

The door opened and another woman walked in, causing Sara to glance over.  When she looked back Danny was gone.  She sighed and dried her hands.  Probably for the best, she thought.  She had stalled long enough getting back to her share of the paperwork.


	3. A Night Of Firsts

After another hour of paperwork Sara and Jake got called out on a shoot-out at a warehouse down on the waterfront.  Jake drove, and Sara impatiently checked her gun as they raced through traffic.  The shooting was reportedly still going on, so if they got there soon enough they may have a chance of getting to the criminals before they left the scene instead of having to track them down the hard way.  At one point Sara thought she caught a glimpse of Ian's car following, but lost it as Jake swerved around a corner and down a ramp, screeching to a halt two buildings away from their target.

Cops swarmed the area, surrounding the building, trying to keep the shooters bottled up inside.  Sara found the officer in charge and identified herself and her partner.  After another minute all sounds of shooting from inside the warehouse ceased.  Sara exchanged a look with Jake, and they began edging towards one of the doors.  A few other officers headed carefully towards other entrances as well.  The remaining cops held the perimeter.

Sara and Jake eased in through the door, relieved it hadn't been locked, and paused to let their eyes adjust to the gloom.  Inside there were orderly stacks of shipping crates and containers across the floor, and to their left and right there were two more levels of crates up the walls.  Sara could clearly see the signs of automatic weapons by the shattered sides of wooden crates and lines of dents in the cement walls.  Jake knelt quickly at the side of the first body they encountered, feeling for a pulse.  He looked up at Sara, shook his head.  Dead then.  They moved on.  As they moved slowly and cautiously towards the office where the damage was heaviest Sara spun, having caught a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye on the second level of crates.  By the time she had turned all the way around the tail of a long black coat had vanished from sight.  When Jake had turned to see what startled her there was nothing for him to see.  Sara exchanged a look with Jake and shrugged, but inwardly she was relieved Ian was up there keeping an eye on her.

As she and Jake converged on the office, the other three parties of cops arriving at the same time, a figure suddenly jumped up from behind a crate, opening fire with his weapon on full auto.  The cops all dived for cover, a few getting shots off as they went.  Another gunman jumped out and began firing, and the cops realized they were pinned down.  Sara took a risk and popped up to get off two quick shots at the first gunman.  One connected in his chest, piercing a lung, and he went over backwards, still squeezing the trigger and sending a spray of bullets up the wall and into the crates on the second and third levels before the weapon fell from his twitching fingers.  The other gunman concentrated his fire on the crate Sara ducked behind with a scream of fury, intent on destroying the crate to get to her, but another cop took him out with two shots to the chest and one to the head.

As the second man fell and the noise died away the clatter of handguns was loud in the echoing warehouse as the rest of the criminals tossed out their weapons and surrendered.  It didn't take long to round up the remainders of the criminals, and soon the coroners were there taking charge of the bodies.  The rest of the cops were searching the warehouse for anyone still hiding.  Sara arranged for the officer in charge to forward copies of the paperwork to her so she and Jake could file their reports properly, then they headed back to the precinct.

From the top of the warehouse building Ian watched Sara and Jake drive off.  The wind was strong up here, blowing white powder off of his shoulders and head.  He didn't know what the powder was, but he guessed it was some kind of drug by the effect it was having on his equilibrium.  When the first gunman had fallen, the crate above where Ian was crouching had been shattered by bullets as they went up the wall, and the powder had poured down on him.  He had been unable to avoid breathing some of it in, and now a strange heat rushed through his veins, urging him to jump into the sky, to race the wind, to do something wild and reckless and primal.  Only his decades of training and self control kept him from giving in, but it was only a matter of time.  The heat was becoming a fire in his blood and the urges were growing stronger moment by moment.

Shaking the powder out of his beard and hair, off of his clothing, Ian descended swiftly to the ground, slipping out of the area with none of the cops the wiser.  He needed to get to a place of relative safety before his hold on his emotions slipped away.  He made it to his car, heading for the mansion on Faust Street as quickly as possible.  He parked the car and slipped inside, heading for his bathroom, leaving a trail of clothing piece by piece down the hallway behind him.  Startling a maid as he stalked completely naked down the hall and into the bathroom, he turned the shower on and stepped in, letting the cold water rinse the last of the drug from his hair.  His flesh was afire, and the cold water felt good, but the restlessness gripped him so he stepped out to drip on the floor as he stared at himself in the mirror.

The thought entered his head that there might be more of the drug in his beard so he pulled out a razor and began shaving it off.  His beard was thick and it took several minutes, but at last his smooth pale face stared back at him.  Satisfied there were no drugs hidden there, he brushed his hair and pulled it back in a ponytail, then headed for his bedroom.  Irons was there waiting for him, having been told of his strange behavior by the maid he had startled earlier.  Ian ignored his employer, much to Irons' surprise, and headed for his closet.  As Ian began to pull his clothing out of the closet piece by piece, considering each garment for a moment before flinging it away over his shoulder, Irons rose and approached Ian.

"Ian, what has gotten into you," Irons demanded.

"Why is all my clothing black?" Ian shot back, agitated and bordering on angry.

"Because black is best for your job, of course," Irons replied impatiently.  "Ian, look at me!"  Irons grabbed Ian's arm, halting his reach for another shirt.

Ian turned to stare at his employer and Irons let go of his arm, stepping back in shock.  Ian's skin was flushed and his eyes were glassy, the pupils dilated.  Irons was surprised to see the beard missing as well.  Irons became worried.

"Ian, what happened today?"  Irons said, pitching his voice to be smooth and friendly.

"I was watching Sara," Ian replied absently, going back to tossing clothes out of his closet.  "I like watching Sara.  She went to a warehouse on the docks where there was a shootout, and I went to watch."

"Is there anything else," Irons asked.

"One of the crates broke open and spilled something on me, something powdery.  I think I'm drugged."  Ian didn't seem at all concerned by the possibility.  Irons became alarmed.

"Ian," Irons urged gently.  "We need to go see Dr. Immo.  He can help you."

"I don't want help, I want something to wear that isn't black.  Damn!" Ian snarled in frustration as he pulled the last piece of clothing from his closet, throwing it on the floor.  He turned on Irons, the look in his eyes making the blond man back up a step.  "I am sick of always wearing black, sick of that damn watch cap, sick of never having friends, never going out.  All I ever do is cover your ass and cover the Wielder's ass!  I want to have some fun for a change!"  He grabbed a shirt and pants off the top of the pile on his floor and pulled them on hurriedly.  Next he pulled on socks and boots, lacing them up quickly.  Irons just continued to stare, caught completely off guard and trying furiously to think of something he could say or do to distract Ian.  Before he could come up with anything Ian was out the door, moving swiftly down the hall and out of the mansion.

Sara and Jake called it a day and headed out.  Jake went off on another date with the blonde from booking, and Sara headed for her favorite bar and pool hall to blow off some energy before heading home.  She liked playing pool, and could usually find someone to win money off of.  Besides, they had really good potato skins with three kinds of cheese and lots of bacon and sour cream.  She usually managed to go home with more money in her pocket than she arrived with, in spite of buying at least one order of potato skins and several beers.

Suddenly there was a stir from the bar, and Sara glanced over her shoulder to see what was going on.  Most of the women and a great deal of the men were staring and whispering about the tall man who had just walked in.  His back was to Sara, but from what she could see of him he was a bit out of place in this bar.  His long dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail, the ends curling a bit.  His suit jacket was well-fitted and a lovely shade of dark blue, and of very expensive material.  His slacks were also of the same dark blue as the jacket, a matched set.  Shiny black shoes completed the look.  Sara shrugged and dismissed him, turning back to her pool game.

After a few more shots, Sara had defeated another opponent and pocketed her twenty bucks.  She turned to see who was next on the list and found the nicely dressed man watching her.  She stared back for a minute, noting the sapphire silk shirt that went nicely with the darker slacks and jacket, and the intense look in his eyes. A strange shiver ran down her spine, coupled with an uneasy sense of familiarity.  She approached him, wondering if she was asking for trouble.

"Do I know you," Sara asked, brash and aggressive.  The man smiled, glanced away.

"Had any dreams lately, Sara," the man asked, his voice smooth as velvet and oh, so familiar.

"Ian?"  Sara was shocked.  The times she had seen him before he would barely look away from his shoes, and here he was gazing intently at her.  The beard was gone, as was the black clothing she had mentally dubbed his "stalker outfit".  Instead he was as clean cut as any young businessman and handsome enough to take her breath away.  There was something odd about his eyes, though, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

"Sara," he said, her name rolling off his tongue like he was savoring the taste of those two syllables.  "Would you like to go somewhere else," he asked.  "Somewhere more…intimate?"

"What do you mean," she asked, his boldness confusing her and leaving her totally unsure of his intentions.

"I'd like to take you dancing," he replied.

"Oh, sure," she replied.  "I know a few clubs…"

"No," he interrupted.  "Someplace nice.  You would have to change, though.  I would be happy to drive you home so you could change into a dress.  You would be exquisite in a dress."

Sara cocked an eyebrow at him, taken completely aback by his boldness.  This new Ian was so unlike the mysterious but deadly assassin she had known she wasn't sure if she should go anywhere with him.  But she was never one to let "should" rule her, so she took his outstretched hand and let him lead her out of the bar and to his car.  He didn't need any directions on how to get to her apartment, of course.

A part of Ian's mind was gibbering in complete amazement that he had said such bold things to Sara, and that she was with him in his car.  He had been unable to help the words that had tumbled out of his mouth, and the drugged part of him had wanted to say them even though he had expected her to rebuff him.  He felt freer than he ever had in his life, and so completely reckless.  Part of him remembered he would pay for his actions and words tomorrow, but right now everything was wonderful.

"So, Ian," Sara said as they drove towards her place.  "This is a new look."

"Tonight is a night of many new things," Ian replied.

"More mysterioso bullshit," she asked, without much heat, cocking an eyebrow at him.

"No, Sara, it is simply a night when I may experience many new things, things my training and duties have kept me from enjoying before.  Tonight I am not the bodyguard or the assassin.  Tonight I do not defend you or Irons, or serve the Witchblade.  Tonight I am simply Ian.  It is something I have not done before.  I am looking forward to it."

Sara sat silent, turning over his words in her mind, and as the meaning behind them sunk in she felt sad for him.  Before she could say anything they arrived at her apartment, and Ian was out of the car and opening her door for her before she could reach for the handle herself.  They made their way to her apartment, and Ian waited for Sara to unlock the door with barely contained eagerness.  He had never before imagined being invited into her apartment and walked in slowly to savor the experience.

"I'll just be a minute," Sara said as she headed for her bedroom.

"I hope you have a dress that isn't black," he called after her.  She popped her head back out around her door.

"What's wrong with black," she asked, curious.

"I am tired of black," Ian replied.  "I was thinking you would look spectacular in red."  Her eyebrows went up at his bold statement.

"I don't have a red dress," she answered.  Her eyes widened as he walked over to her, pushed the door firmly open, and walked into her bedroom.  She let him enter with only token resistance, bemused by his behavior.

"Let us see what you do have, then," he replied, heading for her closet.  She watched, eyebrows trying to merge with her hairline, as he rummaged thoroughly through her closet.  He refrained from flinging her clothing across the room as he had done with his own.  Finally, on the very end of the rod he found a lovely little emerald green dress and pulled it out.  He turned, his eyes gleaming, and held it out to Sara.

"I would so love to see you in this dress, Sara," he breathed.  She took it and shooed him out of the room.  Changing quickly, she smoothed out the green satin and looked at herself in the mirror on her door.  Good thing she kept in shape, she thought.  She had gotten the dress several years ago for a St. Patrick's Day party but it still fit well enough.  As quickly as she could, she pulled her hair out of it's customary ponytail and brushed it, leaving it loose down her back and over her shoulders.  Completing the ensemble with a pair of relatively low black strapped heels and a small black purse, she opened her door.

Ian had been too restless to sit on her couch and wait, so he had been pacing, looking over her apartment in detail, seeing the things he couldn't see from the fire escape through the window.  He had especially looked over the pictures on her table, recognizing her former partner in one.  He regretted his part in Detective Woo's death, but he had been following his orders.  He knew Sara still missed him terribly.

When he heard the bedroom door open he stopped in his tracks, turning to look her up and down.  As he did his breath caught in his throat.  Sara was a vision in the little emerald dress, her hair free and wild, her beautiful green eyes sparkling in challenge.  He took the steps required to bring him before her, still staring.  She raised an eyebrow at him, waiting for a response.

"My lady," he breathed in awe.  "You are a goddess."

Sara blushed a bit, her cheeks burning, but before she could think of a response Ian leaned over and captured her lips gently with his.  He had never done this before, but all his reading and watching other people had not prepared him for the tidal wave of urgency that rose up in him.  He deepened the kiss when she did not pull away, instinct leading him to wrap one strong arm around her shoulders and pull her against him.  His other hand slid up into her silken hair, alternately gripping and stroking the auburn locks.

Sara had been taken by surprise when Ian had begun kissing her, but when he pulled her against him she felt the heat rise up in her belly, lust awakening in her as she finally admitted to herself she found him dangerously exciting and attractive, stunningly attractive.  When she began actively kissing him back, running her tongue over his lips, he groaned and crushed her against him, opening his mouth to her and letting her take the lead.  She kissed him more aggressively, liking to be the one in control, aroused that Ian was letting her lead.  They finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Ian's head spinning and Sara's cheeks flushed.

"My God, Ian," Sara breathed.  "Where did that come from?"

"I have wanted to do that from the moment I saw you," he admitted.

"Why didn't you," she asked.  He shrugged.

"I didn't know how to begin," he admitted.  "I've never done that before."

"You haven't?"  She was surprised.  "I couldn't tell."

"Shall we go," he asked, offering her his arm and changing the subject.  She took his arm and let him lead her out of the apartment.  When they got out onto the street Sara realized it was a bit cold for such a light dress, and regretted not grabbing a coat.  Ian noticed the goosebumps on her arms and draped his own jacket over her shoulders.  She smiled and pulled it close around her, enjoying the spicy smell of his cologne mixed with the musk of his skin.

The restaurant he drove them to was upscale, and Sara was very glad Ian had taken her home to change.  She would have been embarrassingly out of place in her jeans and crop top.  Ian led her through the maze of tables to the back of the room, where there was a semi-secluded area with a bar and dance floor.  There weren't many people there, but there was a dj as well as a bartender, and Sara smiled to hear them playing fairly current music.

Ian chose a table and she set down her purse, which he then covered with his jacket.  As the current song ended Ian spun her onto the dance floor and proved himself to be a very graceful and accomplished dancer to the hard beat of Evanescence's Bring Me To Life.  They danced for hours, pausing in between songs to have a drink and snack on a plate of chicken strips while catching their breath.  Sara noted all Ian drank was cola.  She was having such a good time it was with a great deal of regret she decided to call it a night.  Morning would come all too soon, and she knew if she stayed up any later she would be worthless at work.

When Ian brought her home to her door she was debating on inviting him in.  He waited while she unlocked her door, then as she turned to speak to him he kissed her, silencing whatever she was about to say.  The kiss quickly deepened and grew intense as desire overtook them both again.  It was with a great deal of regret and willpower that Ian broke it off, smiling sweetly at Sara, and said good night.  He waited until she closed her door and he heard it lock, then went back to his car and drove home in thoughtful silence.

Sara locked the door, leaning against it for a long time.  She had been taken completely by surprise by Ian this evening, but it had by no means been unpleasant.  She wondered what had come over him.  Something had been different, and she found herself wishing the change would be permanent.  She had enjoyed her evening far more than she had thought she would, and hoped that they might go out again soon.   She thought about her reactions to his kiss and how much she had liked dancing with Ian, and had to admit to herself that she could very easily fall for the Ian she had spent the evening with.

Her dreams, when she finally slept, were very good indeed.


	4. The Morning After

A/N:  Sorry this installment has taken so bloody long.  I've not been sleeping well, due to stress, and am having a hard time concentrating lately.  Also my grama, who I take care of, has needed more attention and it is difficult to get time uninterrupted to get anything written that isn't utter drivel.  My sincerest apologies to all, and I hope this is worth the wait.

When Ian awoke the next morning it was to a pounding head and a strange taste in his mouth.  For a moment he couldn't understand the condition he was in, but the moment he sat up and spied his new sapphire blue shirt in a puddle on his floor the memory of last night came rushing back, and he winced.  There would be hell to pay today, with both Irons and Sara, he realized, and the thought nearly set him to pulling the covers up over his head and going back to sleep.  Only knowing things would be worse if he tried to avoid the consequences of his actions forced him out of bed and into motion.

He took a hot shower and dressed in his habitual black clothing, then touched up his shaving job from the day before.  He would decide later whether to let his beard grow back or to continue to shave.  Satisfied with his grooming he headed to the kitchen for something to eat.  His stomach was in knots over the coming confrontations, and his meal was tasteless in his mouth, but he forced something down knowing his body would need the fuel.  Knowing Irons would be in his study at this hour, Ian put his dishes in the sink and went to face the music.

Knocking briefly on the study door, then letting himself silently in, Ian waited with his head down for Irons to acknowledge him.  After several minutes Irons finally put down the document he was reading and looked consideringly at Ian for several very uncomfortable minutes.  Ian mentally braced himself for one of Irons' famous tirades, convinced his employer was furious with him.  Finally, Irons sighed and gestured to a seat in front of the desk.

"Sit down, Ian," Irons urged.  "I am not angry with you."  Ian glanced up quickly at that, startled and wondering if it were true.  He saw nothing in the ice-blue eyes but weariness.

"Yes, sir," Ian said as he moved gracefully to take the indicated seat.

"So, tell me in detail what happened yesterday, how you ended up drugged, and what happened after you left the manor last night."  Irons sat back, steepling his fingers and waiting.  Ian took a deep breath and told him, in enough detail to satisfy him, everything that had happened.  Irons listened impassively, then sat silently for a time after Ian finished his account, thinking on all that he had heard.  Ian was certain that if Irons hadn't been angry before he would be now after hearing about his interaction with the Wielder.  It was contrary to all of Irons' plans of controlling her to have her interested in anyone but Irons, and Ian was to blame.

"Ian," Irons said finally.  "Do you think I work you too hard?"  Ian was caught off guard by the question.

"No, sir," Ian said simply.

"Perhaps I should give you more personal time," Irons said musingly.  "The blade too often sharpened wears down and becomes thin.  And you are more than a weapon, Ian, you are also a man.  You have always served me well, and I owe you more consideration than I have been showing you.  It is easy to forget you have needs when you never complain, my son."

"I have nothing to complain about," Ian insisted, but Irons shook his head.

"You made it very clear yesterday that you do, Ian."

"The drug…" Ian began.

"Only freed you from your self-restraint to say what you wouldn't dare otherwise," Irons interrupted.  "You are a good and faithful servant, Ian, and I do not reward you as I should."

Ian bowed his head, silent, for he did not know what to say.

"Go to Sara, Ian," Irons urged with some humor.  "I am sure you are dreading her response to your actions yesterday as much as you were dreading mine."

Ian glanced sharply up at Irons, nodded, and rose, retreating quickly.  He paused in the gardens long enough to select and clip one perfect white rosebud, then made his way to the precinct.  Having overslept, he had missed Sara's morning routine at her apartment, and was eager to catch up with her while dreading it at the same time.

When he took his usual post and finally caught sight of Sara she seemed to be in a good mood.  She was pouring another cup of coffee and ribbing Jake about something.  The blond detective looked particularly put-upon this morning, even though his eyes held humor at Sara's teasing.  Ian hoped he would not shatter Sara's good mood, all too rare this early in the day, by his appearance as he made his way through the precinct and up to the floor where Sara's office was.  Ian waited until Jake sauntered off to check on something, then approached the door to Sara's office, fighting to hide his reluctance.

"Hey Sara," he said softly, leaning against her door frame and holding the rose before him.  She glanced up, startled to find him there.  Her eyes reflected surprise, but as yet no anger, and Ian dared let himself hope just a little.

"Hey Ian," Sara returned, cocking an eyebrow at him, a slight smile tugging at her lips as she fell into their usual morning conversational ritual.

"Had any dreams lately," he asked intently.

"As a matter of fact, yes," she replied.

"I hope they were good dreams," Ian replied, holding out the rose to her and daring to take a single step into the room.  Sara accepted the gift.  "I wish to speak with you, please, Sara," Ian asked.

"Sure," she replied, glancing around her desk.  "Just let me get some water for this."  Finding nothing more suitable, she grabbed her coffee mug and hurried out of the room.  When she returned mere moments later the rose was in the mug with fresh water.  She placed it carefully on her desk, scribbled Jake a quick note so he wouldn't come looking for her, and led Ian down to the level of the precinct where Vicki worked.  They found a quiet spot where they wouldn't be disturbed, and Sara leaned against one cool tiled wall, waiting for Ian to begin.  He seemed nervous, fidgeting in a way that was completely out of character for him.

"I wanted to tell you something about last night," Ian said, "But I am unsure how to begin."

"It's okay, Ian," Sara said, reaching out and laying her hand on his arm in reassurance.  "Just tell me."

"I was watching over you at the warehouse," Ian began.  "Up on one of the walkways.  When the man with the automatic weapon fired up the wall I ducked down and avoided being shot, but the crate above me was not so fortunate.  It contained a drug that spilled down on me in quantity, and I could not avoid breathing it in.  It had the effect of eroding my discipline and prompting me to act in ways I otherwise would not have."

"So that's what it was," Sara murmured, something clicking into place in her mind.  At Ian's puzzled look, she explained.  "Last night when you found me playing pool I noticed something not quite right about your eyes, but I never would have suspected drugs.  In any case, halfway through the evening the glassy look was gone so I didn't worry too much about it.  The drug had probably worn off by then."

"Worn off?" Ian looked a little stunned.  He had been so focused on Sara he would not have necessarily noticed when the drug wore off.  Did that mean that at least part of the evening his actions were his own and not influenced by chemicals?  The implications of that swirled in his head, confusing him and shaking him to the core.  He did not know he could act like that on his own.

"In any case, I had a wonderful time, Ian," Sara continued.  "I'm hoping you don't need to be drugged for us to do it again."

"I…uh…" Ian stumbled.  Again?  She'd like to do it again?  "I would like that very much," he replied, dragging his wits back under control.  He took her hand, greatly daring, and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of it.  Sara grinned and stepped forward, pushing him backward with her body until she had him pinned against the wall, and kissed him the same way they had kissed the night before.  When she pulled back Ian's head was spinning.  She ran one light fingertip over his bare jawline, sending a thrill up Ian's spine.

"I like you without the beard," she said.  While Ian was still fighting to get himself back under control and his mind working again, Sara smiled wickedly at him, as if aware how easily she threw him into mental and physical chaos, and turned to saunter back upstairs to her office.

Ian remained still for several moments, resting his head back against the cool tile of the wall, until a greatly amused yet slightly envious voice interrupted his thoughts.

"You're in for a wild ride," Vicki observed.  Before he could muster a response Vicki turned back to the morgue and left him alone in the hall.


End file.
